


I don’t want to admit it (Bang Chan "인정하기 싫어")

by mcgehee



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Gen, I don't want to admit, Internal Monologue, No Plot/Plotless, One Shot, Short One Shot, Song - Freeform, Song Lyrics, based on a bang chan song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:07:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28549107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcgehee/pseuds/mcgehee
Summary: The truth soaks his brain with thoughts he already knows. It will take some time to accept it; it’s one of those nights, after all.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	I don’t want to admit it (Bang Chan "인정하기 싫어")

**Author's Note:**

> I used the English lyrics to write a very short text about Chan’s song “인정하기 싫어” because this song means a lot to me and somehow, I just can’t stop listening to it. I guess I just had to write this to sort my feelings in a way. Maybe someone can relate or just enjoys reading this.  
> There are several English translations for it, I went with ‘I don’t want to admit it.’
> 
> Here's the link to the song: www.youtube.com/watch?v=cESg37OFeso

* * *

There is a black cloud, not only in front of the window but above his head – or so it seems. It’s one of those nights … thick and soundless is how they approach him, embracing him with arms both familiar and hurtful.

_I don’t want to admit it._ But there’s more to it, though. _It’s hard to understand._

While darkness curiously conquers the empty room that he’s in, it’s getting harder to ignore the subtlety of doubt and old, old feelings. _Do_ _I still miss you?_ Or is it sentimentality that waits hungrily until I open my heart again – just for a while, just for a moment of sweet, sweet suffering? Because that is what used to trouble him so consequently when wounds had been fresh, and words and thoughts had more power over him. Back then, on a day full of lies when promises fell from high edges and shattered shamelessly. Tiny shards of this memory – invisible but precisely placed – had stayed with him all these years and from time to time, they dug in and let him feel a pain he longed for but simultaneously despised.

_I’ll be honest. I want to give up, but I don’t know._

It’s a thought that had entered his mind a number of times already. He simply had to let it pass once more while leaning against the door to another part of himself – a door, though shut and sealed most of the time, crept ajar occasionally. Why? He didn’t know – or rather, didn’t dare to consider.

_(I will wait a little longer. I’ve been doing it till now.)_

Although he knows of the dark cloud’s tricks, he can’t help but feel defenseless. All the strength he had raised, all the steps he had taken in order to turn away from someone that was only contributing to his downfall … In dim lighting, lulled by gloomy tunes, old habits prosper and eventually, catch up to him.

_I can’t stop thinking about you._

_Just stay with me._

_I can’t give up on you._

He knows better. Nothing can come out of opening long lost boxes and asking questions that are already overdue and irrelevant to his present self. The person that he once was had left and never returned; the person that once caused his restless, hopeless wondering had left and never returned. So? Perhaps, his realization will, partly, always be meaningless, however, it will always carry the truth: _The you that I’ve pictured in my dreams has already changed._

His mind feeds him another lie that, although so easy to uncover, grabs onto him tightly: _Who knows, maybe you can come back?_

No, he’s sure of that. Still, isn’t it so tempting to lie down and cover yourself with possibilities? To effortlessly believe all the nonsense that sounds so reassuring and hardly complicated? No, he’s sure of that. It’s a cycle he was always able to break, but never able to escape completely. There is always a last time; there will always be a next time.

It’s one of those nights, so there’s no way out yet.

_I stay awake the whole night,_ he thinks tiredly as the lonely room calls for his compassion and urges him to remember.

He’ll float for a while on gone days, nights, times that he, yes, wishes to revisit and remain in. Those habits are hard to defeat; they will never drown because they’re floating right next to him like hollow bones – driftwood in a sea of sadness. _It’s hard to understand._ Sometimes, it’s simply all that remains. His heart a stone as the black cloud becomes his mind. _(No wonder it’s following you around so loyally.)_

Healing is not always a linear path; it’s not always wholesome and requires a form of patience that endures while some scars break open again from time to time. There’s no assurance, there’s no safety to be promised along the way. The curtain he had removed from his gaze – the false perception of a situation destined to replay in his head over and over – had granted him one important revelation: There was nothing he could’ve done, nothing he could do to change what had already passed. Decisions made by others, feelings occupying their minds – even if these feelings affected him – were out of his reach. How could he take the blame for something that was impossible for him to change?

_I might as well forget_. But it’s not that easy, is it?

The ceiling above his black, clouded head is as blank as his heart. He’s lonely, he’s hurting, but then again, he’s empty, too. The truth soaks his brain with thoughts he already knows. It will take some time to accept it; it’s one of those nights, after all.

The one who made this collapse is me.

_The one who made this collapse is you._

No … Yes … Who cares?

All he can do is move on from it eventually.


End file.
